


Once Upon a Coffee Shop.

by cutenewt



Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Canon Autistic Character, Drama, F/M, Happy Ending, Police
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 20:46:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11238870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutenewt/pseuds/cutenewt
Summary: When Kyra McLarson takes her most dedicated story – based on one of Toronto's most mysterious cold cases – one step too far, she finds herself having to unintentionally face the consequences at hand.But, when Dov Epstein happens upon the missing persons report of somebody that nobody believes to have either gone missing or can be found alive, he takes matters into his own hands.Can the pair make it out of what led them into this mess alive?{Set during season two of Rookie Blue.}





	Once Upon a Coffee Shop.

_**This is my first piece of writing about Rookie Blue. Please give your thoughts, and enjoy reading!** _

~

 

It was a day like any other, another morning entering the coffee shop in downtown Toronto. The skies were grey that day, rain flooding down, battering the paved sidewalk and pooling into puddles for cars to obnoxiously drive through and soak passers by.

 

The coffee shop has always been warm and welcoming. It's interior being compact and safe, comfortable to reside in. The wall decor having inspirational quotes printed on, and handpainted pictures of different kinds of beverages. This was Kyra’s safe place – her secret little alleyway gem, with no bustling business men worrying about their nonfat extra whipped whatever, or no soccer moms getting in your way to try and find the perfect lighting.

 

This was just right.

 

The usual cushioned corner near the window seems to usually be conveniently free. If that spot is taken, there's always one of the rustic wooden tables in the middle, that have vintage looking flowers slightly off-centre for juxtaposition purposes. Kyra’s notebook always fits perfectly onto one of the surfaces, as she scribbles down whatever is relevant to her most recent journalism discovery.

 

But, there's always been one particular story she's never quite been able to let go of. The story that wound her up in the mess of a situation in the first place – the story of Toronto’s biggest mystery… a cold case from five years ago.

 

~

 

_**1 week later,  
15 Division.** _

 

The squad car was filled with an argument that morning. The streets had been quiet, and driving around the city isn't the most exciting part of police work. Especially not for Dov.

 

“I'm just saying –”

 

“Well, don't.”

 

“We could check out the cafe again!”

 

The blonde haired cop in the driver’s seat rolls her eyes into the heavens. “We looked, and found nothing. Let the detectives do their work!” She sighs exasperatedly.

 

“Could you pull over,” she looks at him. “Please?” He asks more politely, but it's a forced gesture.

 

Doing as asked, they come to a stop beside the sidewalk. “It's a four block walk from here. I'm going to take my lunch, and call you when I need picking up.”

 

“Dov –”

 

The door slams shut, and the squad car returns to silence.

 

~

 

**_Slightly over an hour later._ **

 

A heavy metal clanging startles Kyra out of her trance that had been staring at the wall before her. He hardly ever opens that door… only to feed her, or bring more water. She has become quite content with her demise actually, and has taken to the process of acceptance. Wondering why he's coming back not long after lunchtime has her worried, and extremely startled on top of all that when he throws down another body beside her.

 

Wondering if this might be another victim, Kyra wearily squints through the darkened room at the silhouette. There's a gash on his forehead – the fact that the body isn't a woman confuses her, due to the extensive research she's gathered over the years. She reaches out to poke him, and yelps when a quiet groan interrupts her action.

 

“You're alive?”

 

“I think so…” the guy sits up, touching the nasty head wound that he's received.

 

She watches him grimace in pain. “I wouldn't touch that if I were you,” Kyra mumbles quietly.

 

“Where are we?” He slurs slightly, most likely concussed.

 

“No idea. What's your name?” She makes conversation for the sake of the fact that they could be killed any moment, and she doesn't like being strangers to the only person she may ever see again.

 

“Dov. Are you Kyra McLarson?”

 

She nods.

 

“Oh, I’m here to save you.”

 

“Thank you… but, forgive me for saying that your statement doesn't fill me with much hope, nor bring me much comfort,” she states matter of factly.

 

Dov laughs softly. “You were reported missing four days ago,” he tells her.

 

“It's been four days already?”

 

He nods. “Your landlord came in on Tuesday, complaining you hadn't paid rent.” Dov explains.

 

She gasps slightly. “I've never been late, _ever._ ” Her arms fold tightly across her chest, hair falling into her eyes. “I guess he has to cut me some slack though.”

 

_**4 days earlier…** _

 

A middle-aged male, dressed in a rather unflattering Hawaiian shirt wanders up to the front desk. “I'd like to report a missing person – I want my rent.” He demands, his voice gravelly and thick American.

 

“Could you be more specific, please, Sir?” Dov looks up, not wanting to deal with this today.

 

The man grunts. “One of my tenants – Kyra McLarson – didn't pay rent last night. For the past three years she's been living there, she's paid exactly on time each month. Figured she's missin’, and I need my money.” He explains.

 

“Are you sure she didn't just forget? Or skipped town, for any reason?”

 

“No! She's… what do you call it? Always sticks to a routine, gets stressed and upset if it goes wrong. Not many friends, always lived alone, and likes things to be stable.”

 

Dov sighs, glancing to his side for some support, but Gail is still on a coffee run so it seems. “If you'd like to come with me, and we can sort something out. How long has she been suspected missing?”

 

“Well, last time I saw her was yesterday morning, and she should've been back before noon. And, she was supposed to pay that evening!”

 

“Yes. You've explained that part already.” Epstein mumbles more to himself than anyone else.

 

_**Meanwhile, present day…** _

 

“Thanks for coming to look for me. I guess everyone thought I’d just run away?” She asks, accompanied by an almost invisible sigh.

 

“Well, the detectives gathered some information from previous social workers and therapists. Most of them came up with the same thing – she used to run away, until finding stability and then clinging onto it.”

 

She laughs, but empty from any signs of humour. “Yeah, well I love to contradict a good medical opinion. I'd run away, because everyone thought if they forced me into a routine then I wouldn't. So, I guess I went against it and then running became the routine instead,” Kyra says.

 

Something close to silence falls over them, and only ragged breathing can be heard.

 

“Are you okay?” Kyra whispers, growing tired of only hearing her own voice for four days more than anything else as a valid reason for the lowered volume.

 

“Hmm? What? Oh, yeah. My head just hurts, that's all.” Dov rambles quickly.

 

She squints through the darkness of the room again, despite having grown quite accustomed from the lack of her eyewear and blackness the past few days. Studying him, Kyra makes her conclusions inside of her head.

 

“I'm assuming he emptied your pockets.” She stands up. “Try to breathe slowly, okay?”

 

Dov’smbreathing quickens slightly, and the sound of Velcro opening and closing at a fastening rate echoes around the enclosed space that the pair have been confined to.

 

“Just keep talking to me. What happened next?”

 

_**Back at the station, present day…** _

 

“Okay, Gail… calm down. He isn't answering his cell? Okay, okay. Get back to the station, and me and Sam will be on it.” Andy hangs up, and then hurries back into booking.

 

Sam has now finished processing their guy, and has locked him up to await bail. He turns around, noticing the look of worry entwined with stress worn upon McNally’s face.

 

“Dov went to the same coffee shop that the missing girl was last seen at on his lunch break, and Gail said he was half an hour late, so she went to look and he's gone.” She spills out all at once, barely even pausing to breathe.

 

Swarek nods. “Alright, she called him?” Andy nods.

 

“He isn't answering. It's been almost two hours now,” she replies.

 

They both head to find Jerry’s desk – he's out on a case right now, but the files for the three missing girls and their killer is still stored away in his desk drawers. Both Sam and Andy know that it isn't a coincidence Dov would disappear after voluntarily taking another visit to the coffee shop 15 Division's latest missing case was last seen. They simply have to assume the worst.

 

~

 

“Okay, so your parents were hippies? They hated cops and you became one. That's kinda rebellious,” Kyra laughs, sitting down opposite him as he's slumped up against the wall.

 

He smiles. “I guess,” Epstein coughs.

 

“You know, it is really hot in here. It's cold outside though, which makes you wonder where we are… heat can be dangerous for asthmatics , right? We’ll get out of here soon. I don't know his plan for us right now, but your cops will find us.” She stares at the ground, looking downwards at her worn out Converse.

 

“How'd you know?”

 

“I'm no detective, but I do have eyes and ears.” She says. “Plus, someone I used to have to share a room with back in foster care had asthma – so, during heatwaves _neither_ of us got any sleep,” Kyra adds, earning another small laugh from the officer before her.

  
~

 

“Okay, so he killed three girls, yeah? And, they were assumed to be surrogates. So, back then the FBI assumed he killed his true desire, and that's why the killings stopped.” McNally rambles, pacing up and down before Sam.

 

He nods for her to go on, interested in what her brilliant mind has to offer. “Well, what if he did exactly that, but he still wanted to carry on? So, he moves across state lines, maybe even into the US – leaving him undetected, because there's no pattern, high-risk victims, whatever. But, then he finds this blogger who knows all about him… was he narcissistic?” She pauses, stopping dead in her tracks in time with her question.

 

“FBI profile assumed he was only killing as a surrogate, not even staging them in a harsh way. You'd think he'd keep McLarson out there if he liked her stories?” Swarek adds.

 

“Well, I read some of the posts. A lot of them portray him to be merciful – a few quotes from the girls’ families might've made him angry, seen them to be coming from Kyra,” McNally suggests.

 

“Good. Okay, so, he takes the girl and what, goes back to see if anyone's missing her?”

 

“Finds a cop, panics, takes the cop… now he’ll probably be getting ready for his end game.” Andy looks worried. “Where would he take her? Somewhere one of the girls used to live?” She wonders aloud.

 

Sam shoots her down straight away, stating that's the first place the detectives had checked three days ago. “Too many abandoned buildings to search, all the properties owned by the three girls have been ruled out.” He adds.

 

McNally exits the lounge, making a beeline for the nearest computer. She starts typing, feeling Sam’s presence behind her already.

 

“There's a nightclub one block from Haily O’Lauren’s place, shut down about a month ago due to it becoming basically a drug den. It's convenient, no more police presence focused around it due to the serial killer scare… secluded, alleyways nearby – where he used to lay out his victims,” Andy says, spinning around in her chair to face her partner.

 

“It's the best lead we’ve got, I'll go get Oliver and Peck.” He says, running off in her opposite direction. “Meet you in the squad!” He yells, from around the corner.

 

~

 

Oliver and Gail, Sam and Andy, along with S.W.A.T (if they're needed) are on their way. They skid to a halt outside of the abandoned nightclub, the cars each aligning against the sidewalk. The men and women head in, guns branded in front of them, their partners always having their back.

 

Each member of the force scour the two floors of the club. Sam and Andy come to a back room, and give one another the nod to go in. It isn't locked, and they successfully enter what looks to be just a simple storage space.

 

“There's a trap door here,” McNally whispers, pointing down to where her combat are against the edge of a metal square.

 

As he nears her to attempt at helping to open it, a force knocks her down. Sam immediately withdraws his gun, events becoming evident right away. “I _will_ shoot if you do not stand down immediately!” Swarek shouts, as Andy fights against the killer.

 

Clearly not satisfied with being interrupted before he could even get into the door and play out his end game, the male doesn't comply. Sam holsters his weapon, and takes to using his hands instead. With the joint force of Andy pushing him off, and Sam grabbing and tossing him aside, the pair overpower him after a few more minutes.

 

“Stay down!” Swarek commands, twisting the guy’s hands behind his back with distinct lack of mercy.

 

He cuffs the man, ignoring his ramblings about whatever his delusional mind may be telling him in the present moment. Right now, all that matters is getting the hostages out alive.

 

“We have the suspect in custody, backup requested to retrieve hostages down in the storage room.”

 

A few S.W.A.T. members join them, restraining their prisoner and dragging him away from the scene. Sam tries the door, but it's padlocked shut. Another member of the S.W.A.T. team retrieve bolt cutters from the van outside, and then Gail and Oliver enter the room.

 

Everyone becomes silently afraid of what they might find, the fear quietly creeping up behind them as the sound of the metal chains snapping in half travels through the humid, indoor air.

 

“Epstein? You in there?” Swarek calls through the now open trap door, getting handed a flashlight and turning it on.

 

The beam of light travels down, and eventually lands on two bodies. “We’re down here! You need to call a medic!” Kyra’s voice bounces back, and once again they all sigh with relief.

 

“We need a medic down in the storage room,” Andy radios in right away.

 

“Are you hurt, Kyra?” Andy crouches down, trying to see down into the dimly lit, hidden room.

 

She gets closer to the light, her hand shielding above her eyes, not used to seeing any kind of light for a while. “I'm okay. Your officer, he's concussed and can’t breath!”

 

EMTs rush into the room as if directly on cue, and Kyra moves so that they can descend the ladder before she goes up. Sam helps her out of the hole, her body weakened from only having intaken the bare minimum of food for close to a week. Medics support Dov up the ladder next, one holding an oxygen mask over his face.

 

Kyra is about to be ushered away by a new coming paramedic, but her eyes are focused on a worn out shelf nearby. “Wait!” She tears away from his grip, not a fan of unwanted touching in the first place.

 

She rushes towards it, not noticing the other trophies side by side. Only one thing is important, and Kyra grabs it before running back over to the two paramedics getting Dov onto a stretcher.

 

“Here,” she hands Dov a blue inhaler, and the paramedics take away his oxygen mask.

 

Kyra turns back to the paramedics eager to check her out, and steps towards them. “Okay, okay. I'm ready,” she huffs, just happy that the officer who paid attention to her case is alright.

 

~

 

_**Three hours later.** _

 

Kyra is still sat in her hospital bed, quite unsure as to why they won't let her go home. The crazy guy who took her is locked up, and the only problem she encountered medical wise was a small amount of dehydration and a little malnutrition.

 

She drums her fingers against the plastic side of the bed, still trying to adjust to the contrasting extra brightness of the light in here. They're rather overwhelming, so Kyra closes her eyes.

 

All of a sudden they fly open, and an immediate sense of stupidity crosses her mind. The girl shakes her own head, forgetting about her own faux wellbeing for more than a thoroughly deserved moment or two. Kyra unbandages her hand, and decides that it's warranted to remove her IV without a doctor or nurse present at this current moment. She steps out of her bed, and wanders out into the corridor.

 

It's around eight p.m. and the ward is quiet. There are a few nurses bustling around, but they aren't paying attention to her. She looks well enough to be walking, and that's good enough of a cover.

 

The time it takes for her to inspect each room with a fair enough amount of subtlety makes it for a quick equation, and Kyra finds whom she's come to thank.

 

“Sorry I wound you up in here, of all places.” She says, quietly entering the room so as to not dramatically pain his head anymore.

 

Dov grins sleepily. “I'm alive, and I technically solved a case, and sort of promoted our safe rescue… so, I'm happy with that.”

 

“Me too, actually.” She says, not sitting down because there's a coat on the chair – maybe the blonde officer’s from the scene of the crime?

 

He closes his eyes, deserving some rest after today’s events.

 

“Thanks for saving me.” Kyra whispers.

 

Dov falls asleep with a smile.

 

~

 


End file.
